A Journey of a Thousand Smiles
by AmaryllisMoth
Summary: In Daventry, the unexpected is often expected. Yet when a chaotic curse swept the land, swapping this for that at random, things had somehow gotten stranger. Did I ever tell you that story, Gwen? It's a tale of great adventure, silly riddles, and how I met some very special friends...


When something is misplaced, the advice often given is to search quite thoroughly, as it may be hidden right under your nose. Quite silly advice, really: there's certainly not much space below the nose to hide very much of anything save an errant spot of jam. (The exception may be those among us gifted with impressively fluffy mustaches, which could hide practically everything from a talkative animal companion to devious intentions).

The other issue to be found with this advice is it doesn't quite take into account what to do in situations where you know _exactly_ where your misplaced object is supposed to be, but it simply...isn't. Like when your favorite soup spoon with the comfortably smooth handle has suddenly and inexplicably been transformed into a baffled looking tortoise. Or, as baffled as a tortoise can look, anyway.

"Oh..." King Graham said to himself as he stared into the beady eyes of the creature that was once his beloved silverware.

"This isn't quite right."

Certainly the young king, at least, wore confusion well on his face before it was subsequently replaced with a resigned frustration.

He set the small tortoise, legs kicking, down onto the lunch table where it began enthusiastically attacking his salad to the best of its little abilities.

"Things haven't slowed down with this...changey-wangey business, have they, Tim?"

King Graham already knew the answer. After all, this bizarre curse that caused random objects to be exchanged with one another had been plaguing Daventry for a full day and a half now. But he still felt compelled to ask one of the knights standing guard over the table. Perhaps in a vain hope that the curse might just swap itself away for something less...troublesome.

Tim, a particularly exuberant knight clutching a sopping mop, gave the king a hearty salute. "No, sire! Nothing has changed! Apart from everything, that is."

"I was afraid of that..." Graham eyed the cleaning utensil with suspicion. "And I suppose you're keen on getting your spear back?"

"Quite the opposite! I find this mop to be a versatile substitution, indeed!"

Dave, the other knight in the room, nodded quite eagerly at this statement. "I'm all for it! Should deter tomfoolery just as good if not better than that old fashioned pointy nonsense. No one wants to get touched by a dirty mop, eugh! Just think of the germs!"

"It's also lighter, has more personality, an _immaculate_ hairstyle and, as I just discovered, has a great secondary use of being able to wash the floor, too!"

Just to demonstrate his point, Tim began to furiously scrub at the scraps of vegetables the sloppily munching tortoise had rejected off the table. As content as his knight was at the whole situation, Graham couldn't help but consider that undoubtedly somewhere across town there was a very disgruntled housewife doing her darnedest to clear away the spear scratches left from the weapon currently embedded in her sudsy, half washed floor.

"Oh. Of course."

The tortoise began kicking at the large white round _thing_ trapping its foot, not realizing it was irreparably soiling the king's soup. Because it was a tortoise.

Scooping it up off the table the knight Dave chastised the clueless animal. "You are in clear violation of decree 74311!"

"Excellent work, Sir Dave!"

But King Graham did not share the enthusiasm of either of his knights. Giving up on his meal, Graham resolved himself to another afternoon of taking record of, fetching and returning all the lost objects he could find. It wasn't the most noble or glorious of kingly duties, but it was all that could really be done until the source of this nonsense was discovered. He gave the tortoise one last solemn glance as it squirmed in Dave's arms, realizing his precious spoon was now littering the forest floor somewhere. He wondered with a faint hope that perhaps it would serve as a fine nutcracker for a particularly ingenious squirrel.

"Uh...mind our reptilian guest for me, would you?"

"Yes, sire! Certainly a lot of intruders to account for these days. Shall I put him with the others?"

Graham hesitated. "Intruders? Others?"

Dave laid a hand across his chest and recited the rule by heart. "Proclamation 84: Anything found in the castle that has not been invited in shall be considered an intruder and detained until properly questioned."

"Ah, yes..." Graham feigned recognition. "Sensible rule, that."

"Shall I begin the questioning of this turtle?"

A sensible rule, but perhaps not so sensible in execution.

"Hold that thought. Exactly how many intruders are we talking about?"

Dave lifted up his fingers to count on them. "Well, there's the snake that was found in the linen closet this morning, all of those lamps—clashed horribly with the décor they did, the boy that came tumbling out from the library just before lunch, the dog that replaced the chair in the front hall..."

"Shame; good chair that was." Tim said with a tearful shake of his head.

"And a good dog it is, too! But that's not accounting for all the intruders yesterday, which first was the badger in the-"

"Enough, enough!" Graham sighed. "Any other _people_?"

"Just the one."

Well, that was a relief, at least. It certainly wasn't kingly, or decent of any person for that matter, to detain random villagers who had been spontaneously whisked from their home by a magic curse, leaving behind only a large potted fern or some such in their wake. Graham resolved himself to first find this person and apologize for the unexpected vacation.

"Where is he now?"

"Kyle and Larry were guarding him with _impeccable_ _diligen_ _ce_ , sire!"

In this case, diligence likely referred to the unquestionably devoted attention they were giving to their on-going game of who-spots-the-changes-first and not the quality of their monitoring abilities. All day they had been staring very intently at stacks of random objects, hoping for one to give that tell-tale faint _pop_ and transform into another intruder.

Graham sighed again.

First that dragon smashing through the antiques room the other day, now all this chaotic mess. Was being king ever going to get any easier?

But, he supposed, just like the dutiful beekeeper, being a king isn't one of those jobs that people got because it was easy. It involves managing lots and lots of little things, not being swayed by the danger of it all, knowing that a job well done will yield the sweetest payoff of all: honey. Er...respect. Respect is good, too. And, he also considered jokingly to himself, both jobs came with a pretty swell hat.

* * *

Just as expected, Larry was perched up on top of Kyle's shoulders, the two of them staring intently at a haphazard stack of assorted objects from the castle in the corner of the hallway.

"You two wouldn't happen to know anything about the intruder we were supposed to have? From the library?"

"Odd fellow, that one." Kyle said, keeping his eyes focused on the subtle swaying motion of a clock slumped over various rolled up tapestries.

"Very odd fellow. But quite helpful for an intruder. Offered to go look for some of the stuff that's gone missing." Said Larry.

King Graham stared at the open door, and checked again just to be sure.

"Uh...but the room is empty?"

"Empty!" Larry waggled a finger through the air. "Absolutely not! We are paying the _utmost_ attention, weren't we?"

"Absolutely. The most _-ut_ possible." Kyle stated with a pride that would be difficult to match.

The two knights were always in sync. And whenever one would speak, the other was quick to follow. Much like the near instant salivation upon smelling freshly baking chocochip cookies.

And indeed, a quick peek through the wide open door of the normally locked holding cell revealed several things, including two tacky purple lamps, a smashed and half-eaten birthday cake, a dog sleeping face-first in said cake, one left sock, a badger rattling around in a cage, an anvil, three eggs sitting precariously on a wooden rocking chair and a bag suspiciously slithering across the floor. Graham couldn't argue they were wrong; the room was far from empty. But certainly contained no human.

"The...'fellow' you mentioned. Where did he go?"

"Oh!" Kyle bobbed his head, eyes still glued to the clock. "He walked out a while ago."

"Funny thing, too. Could have sworn that door was locked. Ah, well."

Graham considered that perhaps the door lock had simply turned into a piece of cheese and allowed him to escape? Mmm…cheese...

He was now starting to regret skipping out on his lunch.

"Told you we paid attention!"

Larry tipped his head thoughtfully to the side. "Quite! We watched him very closely. Watched him all the way as he was walking out, too."

Rather than be upset, Graham decided this was probably for the best. It wouldn't have been a very fun time for him being trapped in a room for too long with that mess.

 _Pop_

Kyle spluttered in alarm as one of the paintings hanging on the wall transformed into a neatly rectangular window from a cottage somewhere. Unfortunately this did nothing to make the wall more transparent.

"Intruder!"

They both shouted in unison, hurling the window in through the open door behind them where it made a shattering crash.

Graham nodded to himself, glad that his two knights at least seemed perfectly capable of managing things here at the castle. He took a deep breath, one of those breaths we take before we dive into a particularly unpleasant task – as if we are expecting some part of it to smell just as horrid as the mere thought itself – and resolved himself to set off towards town expecting a day full of micromanaging and the various thrills that came with it. The number of thrills, he expected, should be particularly easy to count out on one hand. In fact, he didn't even need any fingers at all.

Yes, no doubt this would be an exciting day for any accountant anywhere, and quite a laborious one for an adventure-seeker like Graham.

But what King Graham did not expect, was that this chaos was only the beginning of a very interesting adventure indeed.

* * *

Gwendolyn sat up and stared at her grandfather with the kind of indignation one sees quite often when precocious children get the slightest inkling they are being toyed with.

"But Grandpa...surely with a chaotic magic curse like that you'd _have_ to expect an adventure was waiting right around the corner!"

The old king leaned back against his bed rest, his old face lined with the kind of indignation one sees quite often when having to toy with precocious children.

"Nonsense, Gwendolyn! It is called _dramatic tension_. Stories are best when garnished _just right_ with it." He waggled his finger. "It's like a great BLT: some might not appreciate the lettuce but it really brings the whole thing together."

"But..." She huffed and sat back on the bed. "Well, alright. But I thought you said this story was going to be about how you met-"

"Patience!"

Gwendoyln often considered patience to be one of those strange 'virtues' that is useful to have in irritating situations, but is only needed because irritating situations present themselves in the first place. She'd much rather they just stay away to begin with.

But her curiosity winning out in the end, she clutched at a pillow and waited for the story to continue.

"Now, where was I...ah! Right! In town, there were quite a number of complaints to be dealt with, but I noticed that, unexpectedly, someone had already lent a hand in getting a number of problems patched right up! But not one person in town seemed to know who had done it."

Gwen rolled her eyes and said, with a sarcasm very well tuned for someone of her age. " _Oooh_ , _who could it_ possibly _be_?"

"Lettuce, Gwen, remember the lettuce!"

"Sorry! Sorry..."

"Now, if I remember correctly, I decided to begin my investigation into the identity of this mysterious individual after my shocking return to Tuckers' farm..."

* * *

King Graham stared at the cow pen, empty, save for a few cows lost in the monotonous art of grass consumption. Now on any other day this would be quite normal and not worth further inspection. But he knew for a fact that a mere ten minutes ago the cow pen was indeed _not_ filled with cows, but instead contained one overturned wagon. He had been dreading trying to solve the issue of how to get the thing back out without dismantling the whole fence, considering it was upside down and far too large to fit out the gate entrance by itself, but he came back to find the problem had mysteriously solved itself.

The cart was now sitting, upright, perfectly intact just next to the dirt road, and the cows that had been milling about aimlessly had been herded back in.

Yet again there had been no one around to claim responsibility, or to witness who had done it so flawlessly.

All he saw upon his return was the farmer, staring in befuddlement at the whole thing.

"If ye ask me, I think one o' dem 'uns mighta dun eet." The farmer mumbled, pointing over to a lone rooster pecking at the ground by the field.

"Troublemakers..." He nodded. "Dem 'uns."

'Dem 'Uns', Graham decided, was probably the more proper word for the animal and he did his best to commit it to memory. After all, if anyone knew chickens, it would be a...chicken keeper. And Graham was not about to question it.

He scribbled the words 'suspicious chicken' down on his parchment with a sigh and continued along back towards the town square. Certainly this magic curse wasn't just reversing itself arbitrarily. Magic curses simply weren't prone to doing that sort of thing. Hence the curse part.

Someone was definitely assisting him in fixing up the town. He was glad, of course, but slightly unnerved that not a single person knew who to thank for it.

More magic, perhaps? At least he had one suspect now, as improbable as it seemed.

Just before reaching town, he came upon yet another villager who was looking quite content despite holding a soggy left shoe and Graham could only assume his problem had been solved as well.

"Everything alright here?"

"Oh, yes!" The man waggled his dripping possession in the air. "I got my shoe back! All thanks to that mermaid!"

Graham paused. "...Mermaid?"

King Graham had every reason to pause. There hadn't been a real mermaid sighted in Daventry since, as far as he could recall, ever. But if it was true, this was fantastic news.

The only problem with fantastic news, was that it very often sent Graham into an energetic frenzy of excitement. And it was also very often considered unacceptable for a king to be bouncing off the walls like a popped cork with a tendency to latch onto things.

"Did she play the harp with a tune that could stop the fiercest monster attack!? Have mysterious eyes, and a voice that sings in rhyme!? Long, beautiful flowing hair adorned with accessories of all the creatures of the deep!? A...um…sorry."

Graham sheepishly relinquished the man's arm and tried to take a more dignified pose.

The man grunted.

"Nah. Quite ugly for a mermaid, actually. Lacked all the...ah...finer points."

"But you're sure it was a mermaid?"

"Positive! Not a thing else could have stayed under the water long enough to fish my shoe away from the...fish. That's what it got swapped for, you see."

Graham wondered if this man's mermaid could be related to the mysterious cart-overturning cow-herder from before. He stared down at his sheet of parchment and frowned.

"Chickens aren't...known for being good swimmers, are they?"

"Well of course! You've never heard of a chicken-o-the-sea before? Good eating."

Graham did have to admit he may have heard of that before.

He was starting to believe this was a very crafty chicken.

Adjusting his feathered adventuring cap firmly down onto his head, Graham resolved himself to march into town and catch this chicken in the act. After all, perhaps it knew something about the curse itself if it was able to undo so much alone.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried, it seemed he was always just one step behind.

He only got another substantial clue after speaking to the tailor, who apparently had been assisted in retrieving her measuring tape back.

"Must have been an adventurous one." She had said pensively. "Or lived with a giant. Had quite a large house key."

Giants _were_ known for keeping pet chickens...or some other kind of poultry, at least. Graham was pretty sure that's what was said about them. Laid magical golden eggs, too, those hens.

If it was sneaky enough to escape from a giant, surely, he reasoned, he would have to be sneaky to catch it.

The next villager he spied on his route was the blacksmith, Amaya.

"Amaya, good to see you! I've been carefully tracking someone...you haven't happened to see one of..." Graham recalled the correct terminology quickly. "... _dem_ _'uns_ traipsing about, have you?"

Perplexed, she repeated back each sound slowly. "Dem...uns...traipse..." A sliver of recognition flickered on her face. "... _Demonstrate_?"

Well, if she asked for one, Graham decided a physical demonstration may help after all. Like every good chicken imitator, he bobbed his head and waggled his arms around.

"Ugh...Graham? _King_ Graham..." Amaya cleared her throat.

Perhaps a physical imitation really wasn't helpful after all.

"Sorry."

"Look, I'd love to help with...whatever it is you're doing right now..." Amaya said with the kind of heavy sigh that can only come from one patiently restraining something deep inside themselves.

"But the castle wall still isn't patched up from the dragon attack, and now my anvil's gone missing. Can't pound anything properly with just a rickety overturned bucket. Well, maybe I could make some fresh butter or something, but that's more up Wente's alley."

She smacked her fist into her palm.

"If I don't get that anvil back...there goes my last remaining frustration outlet! And _no one_ wants to see me without an outlet, Graham. _No one_. I got so desperate I asked that strange new helpful kid-"

" _Chicken_." Graham kindly corrected.

"Um. Sure. He seemed to think he could find it, but...I'm just not holding out."

Graham could have sworn he had seen an anvil at some point today, perhaps in the clutter back at the castle. Considering the desperate look on his friends' face, he decided to forego his search for his mystery bird and go back to fetch it from the holding cell, if it was still there.

Convincing Amaya to just wait a moment for his return, Graham started up on the shortest route towards the castle, straight towards Olfie's bridge.

Bridge trolls were far from lazy creatures. As stated in the official Daventry Bridge Troll Guild Brochure version 3.7, anyone who tried to claim so would subsequently find their next journey across the county taking many unintended side trips into the rivers below. (The Daventry Bridge Troll Guild also denies the right of anyone to complain about the treatment, either).

But a full day of supporting stomping feet across ones back would make anyone fatigued by mid afternoon. Graham knew Olfie was usually at his favorite spot, taking a well-deserved nap at this hour. It was often quite pleasant to stroll across a bridge slightly rocked by the snoring of the body of the creature beneath.

So he was surprised to find Olfie chatting quite merrily with someone perched on the tallest boulder at the end of the rock wall that also marked the end of the road.

"So, then Olfie says to myself, 'Olfie, you _know_ what eating those does to your digestion!' but sometimes you just can't turn down free snacks! Am I right?"

Olfie only just then became aware of the approach of the king and he waved merrily, interrupting himself.

"Oh! Just in time! I can't wait to introduce you to a new friend of mine."

He gestured down to the stranger on the wall who took a moment to leap back down to the dirt. He dusted himself off with a few well-placed pats and bobbed his head in greeting.

"Hey, there! I'm-"

Olfie couldn't contain himself and interrupted again.

"He's new around here! Says I'm the first bridge troll he's ever met!"

Graham nodded back to the stranger, noting that he had very peculiar bright blue eyes, almost unnaturally bright, like the sky.

"Olfie was about to give him his first official crossing experience when the mouthpiece in my horn went all _pop_ and disappeared and stuff. Made Olfie pretty sad...but he flew right up into the tree and got it down for me! Guess it was up in a bird nest and-"

This time, Graham was the one to interrupt, as he jabbed a finger fiercely in the direction of the stranger, mouth agape. _Helping out with a missing object? Able to fly into trees!?_ _Knowledge of nests!?_ There could be no other explanation!

"Aha! You're the one who has been fixing things around town all day! You're the _dem_ _'uns_ , aren't you!"

The stranger tilted their head to the side, frowning slightly.

"The... _lemon_? What's-"

"You know! Golden egg-laying, magic-wielding, key-stealing, adventuring, giant's pet chicken-of-the-sea?"

"...H-huh?"

The stranger was clearly confused.

Graham was also a touch confused as well, as he was expecting a hen in particular. Only hens were known to lay eggs so there would be no reason for a giant to keep a different sort around. And, glancing over the stranger's figure again, he certainly looked like a... _he_.

"You're not a girl, are you?"

"A gir-" The stranger blinked a few times, processing. "What are you talking about!? I'm not-"

"I didn't think so. Though, I've never really seen a chicken look like you before, either."

"I-I'm not a chicken!"

Olfie chuckled.

"Oh, he's not a chicken! He's a quo-"

 _Pop_

There are few things as large as a bridge troll in all of Daventry. A few trees, perhaps. Maybe a bear with a glandular problem. The most obvious and nearest creature in volume would probably be the mysterious and feared moat monster that patrolled, well, the moat.

It was a feared thing, precisely because it was known to eat royal guards that strayed too close to the waters' edge. No one really knew exactly what it looked like because it never lifted its head too long up above the murky water of its domain. That, and anyone who did get a good look at it usually only had time to say 'yeaaaauurgghh' before disappearing forever into the muck, which wasn't very informative at all.

King Graham had never really seen the moat monster, either.

Until today, that was.

When it was standing right where Olfie had been, staring right at him with one large, unblinking eye.

* * *

"Wait, so...did you _seriously_ ask him if he was a girl? And accuse him of being a chicken, too!?" Gwen rocked back in gleeful laughter. "That's hilarious!"

"I can assure you, at the time, it seemed like a logical thing to assume. Naturally I had no idea how wrong I was about that. Though, I had been right about one thing: he was the mysterious helper I had tracked across town."

Gwen giggled again, considering it all.

"Did you ever tell him that someone called him an ugly mermaid?"

King Graham sighed.

"No, Gwen. There are some secrets we must keep, even between friends."

Bouncing eagerly on the bed, Gwen clearly wanted to continue the tale.

"Tell me about how you two tricked the moat monster!"

"Ah, but you've heard that one bef-"

One look into her puppy-dog eyes, and Graham knew he would have to relent.

"Fine, fine. Now, seeing that moat monster appear was certainly a shock, but we had one in store for it, too."

* * *

A nice jog through the forest can be a great time to get some heart-healthy exercise, take in the fresh air and beauty of nature all around, while reflecting deeply over life. A harried run through the forest while being chased by a large beast was another thing altogether. Granted, the later also did give a chance for one to reflect deeply over life, or rather, the soon to be untimely end of ones own. Graham found himself trying to lament over his predicament, regretful for choosing to come outside at all that day, but it was finding it very hard to concentrate over his own incessant screaming.

The strange mysteriously helpful not-girl not-chicken person was running along side next to him, casting glances back at the beast over his shoulder now and again.

He barely ducked under an incoming branch, his face colliding with a small bundle of leaves sticking out further than the rest. Undaunted, he continued running, spitting out some stray leafy bits that made it into his mouth.

"Pftlughh! Ugh. What _is_ that thing!?"

"M-moat monsteaa-" Graham skidded to a halt, his arms windmilling as he tried desperately not to pitch himself over the edge of the cliff.

The stranger yanked him back with a fistful of his long red cape and checked on the 'monsteaa' rapidly approaching them from behind. He turned back to the other side of the chasm, where the castle rose up from beyond the hill and pointed.

"Is the moat over there?"

"Usually."

"...usually!?"

"It's there unless it's not. And given today, that might be fairly likely."

Perplexed, the stranger could only frown and reflect on the king's statement.

The beast could be heard thumping closer towards them, so Graham darted over to the large horn at the edge of the road, trying to call the nearest bridge troll, even though he knew it would take far too long for her to arrive.

The horn uttered a gasping, spluttering wail and Graham felt like doing the same.

"There won't be enough time to cross!"

"Let's jump, then."

The stranger said this so nonchalantly that Graham assumed he must have misheard.

"J-jump!? Are you crazy! That's a..." Graham checked the distance and gulped.

A long way down was what it was.

He pulled out a long roll of twine from depths of his pockets and gestured wildly with it.

"Here! Let's use this to-"

The strangers' eyes widened in sheer childlike wonder. "Whoa! Where did you get that from? Is that a magic cape!?"

Flushing at the compliment, Graham spread it out for him to see.

"Not exactly. It just has very deep, very convenient pockets."

"That's _awesome_. I've always wanted a cape! What else do you keep in there!?"

Unable to disappoint that eager of a face, Graham quickly dug through his pockets to showcase all the materials he had stuffed away at the moment. There was the twine, his parchment, a quill, a tomato, some fancy candles, a checkered blanket, two large rolls of cheese, a fishing pole and a pitchfork.

The moat monster, having just come to a halt just behind the two, couldn't understand why they were suddenly setting up for a picnic instead of running for their lives. Maybe they had decided to simply give up and lay down among some garnishes. They even set out some candles for it! And a dainty little fork! How kind. It never had food go to such pleasing lengths before. It decided a hearty roar might be a proper thank you before chowing down.

Graham and the stranger winced and turned to look at the monster looming above them. Shrieking, Graham grabbed the nearest object to him, the old tomato, hurling it towards his source of distress.

"Whoa! Nice shot!"

Urged by the peppiness of the strangers voice, Graham opened his clenched eyes one after the other, to see the literal fruits of his labor sliding sloppily down the monster's face.

It roared, horribly offended by their table manners, and Graham suddenly felt himself being tugged backwards towards the cliff.

He could only scream muddled protests and clutch out around him, his fingers latching onto the handle of the fishing pole just as the stranger leapt over the edge, dragging him down with him.

Graham considered he probably looked quite ridiculous plunging to his death, clinging to a fishing pole for dear life. What would they say about him? Probably something like "oh, did you hear? The King's untimely death was certainly a little _fishy_."

But as he opened his eyes to greet his impending doom, he realized two things. One, both him and the stranger were sailing quite comfortably across the gap on some kind of unnaturally impossible wind current. Two, his doom was not as impending as he had assumed.

They both touched down to the other side and Graham collapsed, clawing away from the edge of the cliff.

"How did you-"

The stranger offered him a hand to help him up off the ground.

"Sorry about that. You okay?"

"I'm...but...you flew!? You _must_ be a chicke-"

"Well, it was more of a glide. And I already told you, I'm not a chicken!"

Graham couldn't help but mumble about how that sounded exactly like what a particularly feisty chicken _would_ say. But he decided not to push the issue, the stranger was starting to look a little annoyed at the topic.

From the other side of the cliff, the moat monster gave a howling moan and paced back and forth, eyeing the tender morsels on the other side most carefully. Graham realized quickly that the monster couldn't follow.

He cheered and punched the air.

"Ha! Take that you ugly mug!"

Time for a victory dance.

The strange maybe-a-chicken person laughed, also making a silly face in the monster's direction.

"Not so tough for a monster!"

The moat monster didn't take quite kindly to being laughed it. Certainly not by two scrawny meat sticks. It decided it was time to try something it had never tried before.

It jumped.

Running from a monster once is not ideal. Running from it a second time, after throwing a tomato in its face and taunting it was even less so. Graham could only hope they could make it back to the moat before getting scooped up into its open maw, but it was closing in quickly.

"Hey, mind if I use that?"

The stranger gestured to the fishing pole that Graham had completely forgotten he was holding with a death grip in his left hand. He considered it was an odd time to go fishing, but some people could be quite dedicated to their hobbies and he relinquished it without question.

Rearing to the side, the stranger cast the line sharply forward and to the left, deep into a swath of forest. He tried to reel it in, and when he felt a tugging resistance his face cracked into a wide grin.

Graham felt bad dashing his hopes, but he figured he ought to at least say _something_.

"You're, uh...not likely to catch many fish there."

"I know!" The stranger said with a carefree laugh.

Graham wasn't sure what there could be to laugh about at the moment.

"When I say 'dive', do it fast, okay?"

Graham also wasn't sure if this new companion of his wasn't just confused and hallucinating bodies of water.

"This isn't-"

"DIVE!"

"Dive into whaaaaa-"

King Graham saw the world turn upside down, thumped to the ground and rolled a few times before shakily lifting himself up to see what had happened and why he had just been so roughly pulled against his will again.

Just above him, the stranger was holding the fishing pole tight in one hand, the thin but tough line stretched across the path. The other hand was suddenly holding a key he had either taken from a giant, or a person with very poor eyesight and a propensity for loosing things. Before he could question him further, a sudden rush of cold air hit him as something sparkling and blue blasted out of the end of the oversized key, and the whole path ahead froze into a sheet of ice, creating a slick all the way down the hill.

And as suddenly as it had appeared, the strange key was gone.

The moat monster lumbered forwards, eager to snatch them up for dinner. It had never left the comfort of its moat before, never before had to deal with dinner guests so rude and certainly never before had the experience of tripping face first over something stringy on the ground and sliding uncontrollably across a long sheet of ice that by all logic had no reason to be there at all. But monsters didn't put logic as a high priority in their lives. No need, to. Everything to them was either ready to be eaten, already eaten, or yuck. So its pondering was quickly forgotten as soon as the monster picked up speed in its decent, reached the end of the icy ramp and was flung back into the moat whence it came. It did have one last thought, though, as it sank back down beneath the waves. It figured those two meat sticks were probably yuck anyway.

Having finished cheering, the two of the would-be snacks slumped down to the ground in relief.

The stranger was the first to spring back to his feet.

"Disappearing moats, objects swapping places, monsters popping out of nowhere...is this place _always_ like this?"

"Not exactly..."

It was still a mystery what had cursed Daventry. The first thing to really seem out of place was the untimely arrival of that pesky dragon Hornswaggle. Smashed through the relic room of the castle, set a few prized tapestries on fire, broke some antiques and left just as abruptly as he had come. A nuisance, really, but nothing too disastrous. Graham knew he would regret freeing that dragon all those years ago, and knew he would return again some day to cause mischief. Luckily mischief was all it was. At least shouting the name 'Hornswaggle!' in rage at the sky was a little satisfying and made up for the trouble somewhat, if he was being completely honest with himself.

However, it was shortly after the dragon's appearance that everything started...changing. He wasn't sure if the dragon had brought the curse with it, or the curse had brought the dragon. It made no difference either way.

The boy listened intently to his explanation, and Graham could see the tell-tale gleam of excitement glistening in his eyes that all fellow adventurers have at one point or another. When something truly inspires them.

"A dragon and a magic curse, huh? Any way I could help?"

Graham narrowed his eyes suspiciously. There he was, being helpful again. But who was he, anyway? He didn't come across as a simple traveler, not with that magic.

It was at that point that Olfie, the bumbling yet friendly bridge troll lumbered over, looking quite sheepish, despite being very much larger than an average sheep.

"Hey it's my little smiley Quokka friend! Goosey, too!"

"Goosey…?" The stranger muttered quietly under his breath, glancing over at the king. Likely wondering if naming people after various fowl was just a normal thing here.

"Olfie got dumped over behind the castle and was so worried something happened to you guys."

"Nope! We're good! Thanks for coming to help though. Glad you see you're okay too, Olfie."

Graham was still suspicious. This newcomer certainly was friendly with large creatures he had only just met. Almost like he was comfortable around them. Much like a golden egg-laying chicken would be around a giant. And what was with that nickname?

"Quokka...? As in… 'quokka-doodle-doo?'"

The _most-definitely_ a chicken in disguise slumped his head forward, shaking it.

"For the last time, I'm not..."

Perking back up, he decided to offer Graham another bright smile, and his hand.

"Let's just start over, okay? I'm Sora."

"...Graham. You're really not a-"

"Nope! Just a visitor."

"Where did you hail from, then? Has it been a long journey so far?"

He paused, looking a little uncomfortable with that particular line of questioning. Graham wondered if perhaps he was running away from something and preferred not to speak on it.

"Where you're from doesn't matter. But I am curious, what made you pick Daventry to visit? Maybe you saw all our new tourism fliers? We all worked _pretty_ hard on those."

"Um, well…I just sorta ended up here accidentally..." Sora seemed to note the slight disappointment on Graham's face and he quickly apologized. "Sorry..."

"No, no, never apologize for seeking adventure!"

Sora hummed for a moment, thinking. "I think this adventure found me."

Graham's eyes lit up. "The call of adventure finds us all in mysterious ways! That's what brought me to Daventry the first time, too! What did the call say to you?"

He crossed his arms. "Well...it didn't exactly _say_ anything. I was at the...uh...somewhere far away, and this really weird book started jumping around and fell off the shelf on its own. I mean, I know Yen Sid keeps some weird stuff lying around but I didn't expect it to be another one of those teleportation storybook things. I got pulled in and poof, I ended up here."

He said this as if being sucked into a book was a regular occurrence where he came from.

"I landed in some library with a bunch of these weird guys in armor that kept shouting 'Intruder! Intruder!' until I went with-what's wrong?"

"Did you say library?"

"Yeah…?"

"And they called you an intruder?"

"Uh...yeah? Why?"

Graham realized that Sora must have been the boy he just missed this afternoon who Kyle and Larry had been guarding. But sometimes explaining things like this was more cumbersome than it was worth, so he just shook his head and decided to drop the matter.

Olfie patted his stomach and yawned.

"So...little Quokka, Olfie promised to get you back to the castle but it looks like you already made it. Sorry you couldn't experience walking on my bridge..."

"Next time, then!" Sora gave him a cheerful wave.

Surprisingly chipper, that one, considering he was almost a pre-dinner snack for an angry monster. Olfie merrily sang a tune to himself as he stomped off to try and make up for his lost nap. Once the ground stopped shaking beneath him, Sora tipped his head in Graham's direction.

"Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Graham. I promised someone I would try to get something back for them and I happened to see it at the castle earlier today. She seemed pretty upset at losing it, so hopefully those guards don't mind me popping back in."

"Was it an anvil?"

Sora blinked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I came for the same thing."

"Oh! That's great then! We can work together."

He merrily bounced off towards the castle, without a care in the world.

Something felt a little off to Graham. This person didn't seem the least bit bothered by any of this curse business. Confused and unfamiliar with it, sure. But he seemed to accept everything told to him eagerly and without a shred of skepticism. Kyle and Larry had been quite right about what they'd said of him: he was an odd fellow, but helpful nonetheless.

And there was something about that untempered positivity that Graham liked very much.

* * *

"I think I'd like him very much, too. I hope I can meet him some day." Gwen said, tugging on the end of the well-squished pillow still crunched up in her arms. She half yawned, but tried to clamp her jaw down to hide it. But no matter how much she tried, she couldn't hide the sleepiness in her eyes and it was obvious to her grandfather that the stories would have to end there for the evening.

"Time for bed, is it?"

Gwendolyn hastily shook her head in protest. "No way! You've barely even started on the adventure! What about the curse, the dragon, the-" She caught sight of her grandfather's face and sighed. "Is this about lettuce again?"

"Aha! You're catching on. You see, it was a very good thing in the end, that curse. Often times losing things helps us find something else in return. I certainly feel it was worth losing a bit for a chance to meet friends like him and the others. Though, I do miss that spoon sometimes..."

"...others?" Gwen leaned forward eagerly.

"We'll continue tomorrow." King Graham said with a firmness of which every child is familiar.

Over the years she learned it was best not to argue, especially not with a king. Reluctantly, she returned the pillow to its place and slid off the bed.

"I'm looking forward to it. First thing in the morning I'll be back!" She darted over to the door but paused, her hand hovering near the wood without touching it.

"Thanks for the distraction, Grandpa. I feel a lot better now."

He waved his hand to her. "Yes, of course. Gwen, there's no way you won't be able to find that missing little bunny of yours...Mr—...erm…?"

"Mr. Springbottom!"

"Ah, yes."

She bobbed her head eagerly. "Yeah! If you can take on a magic swapping curse, then finding my lost bunny will be a piece of cake! I can't wait to hear how you fixed it."

King Graham gave her a knowing smile. "I did warn you it was a long story..."

She grinned toothily back. "Even better."


End file.
